I glance at Jess, still on the dance floor. I didn’t tell her that I went to Alessandro’s today because I don’t want her feeling all sorry for me. And pretty soon, it won’t matter. Because my plan is to get totally shit-faced. My plan is to revel in the parts of my life that are really good right now and forget the parts that aren’t.

My plan is to do whatever it takes to forget Alessandro.

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

I look in the direction of the voice and see Mike from my acting group grinning at me from the end of the booth.

“Hi.” I yell over the music.

“Can I?” he asks, gesturing to the empty seat across from me.

“Yeah, sure.”

But instead of sitting on the seat across from me, he slides into the booth next to me.

A second later, Nathan is at the end of the table with a pitcher and a stack of cups. He sets them down, looking a little out of his element, unlike Mike.

“Hey. We missed you last Monday.”

“Yeah. I was busy. Family stuff.” I did go to Mallory’s for dinner, but it was because I was looking for a reason to be out of the city, not because I had to.

“What are you drinking?” he asks, gesturing at my empty glass. “I’ll get you another.”

“Rum and Diet Coke. Thanks.”

He smiles and turns for the bar.

Mike leans in. “You look amazing.”

Jess picked my outfit, a snug black cotton tank, a short green skirt, and, of course, my killer boots. “Thanks.”

“You want to dance?” he asks with a tip of his head toward the dance floor.

“Sure.”

He stands and holds out his hand. I take it and we move through the crowd to a spot at the edge of the dance floor, not too far from Jess. She sees me and grins.

Mike was actually pretty good in our Antigone bit for acting group last month, and I find out he’s not a bad dancer either. The alcohol has definitely hit my bloodstream, because I feel all my wariness drop as I shimmy around him. When he puts his hands on my hips and starts to grind his in rhythm with mine, I don’t push him away. When the song’s over, we head back to the table and Nathan is there with my drink.

“Looks like you worked up a thirst,” he says as I slam it.

I smile at him. “I did. Your turn.” I grab his hand and tow him to the dance floor. He’s not as bold as his friend, and keeps his distance. But I decide he’s cute.

We dance off and on, and Jess floats in and out of our group. The boys keep buying me drinks, and by my fifth rum and Coke, I’ve decided I’m definitely going to sleep with one of them tonight. The question is who. Mike, who is one-night-stand material, or Nathan, who has relationship potential?

Hell. Maybe I’ll sleep with both of them. I’ve never done a ménage à trois before. And as the alcohol flows thicker through my bloodstream by the second, what I’m rapidly deciding is that, more than anything, mindless sex is what I need right now.

I knock back my drink and the three of us head out to the dance floor. Mike dances up behind me, snaking an arm around my waist and pulling me against him. Of course he’d be first to make a move. So, it’s going to be Mike, then. I give Nathan a sympathetic little pout as I lift my arms and weave my fingers behind Mike’s neck.

He lowers his face and skims the tip of his nose along the side of my neck. “You smell so good,” he says, low in my ear.

I spin in his arms, pressing every inch of me against every inch of him, and run my hands over his chest. “I taste better.”

The next second, his lips are crushed against mine, and his tongue is darting through my mouth.

I grind into him as we move to the music, forgetting everything but the feel of his hands and his mouth and his body. I come up for air a few minutes later, gasping for breath. “Come on.” He grins as I grab his hand, towing him past the bathrooms to the back exit. We push through the door into the alley, and I barely notice the cold. Mike spins me and slams my back against the building, kissing me hard. I’m getting the feeling he likes it rough—which means I’ve made the right choice.

His hands are on me—all over me—and when one reaches under my skirt and starts to tug down my thong, a sick feeling rolls up from my gut. I tell myself it’s just the booze, but suddenly, I don’t want to see Mike. I don’t want to know who I’m doing this with.

Mindless sex. Mindless.

I close my eyes as his hand slips between my legs and try to lose myself in the moment . . . and Alessandro’s there, behind my eyelids. At the image, a sucking wound in my chest opens up and I can’t breathe.

Damn him for showing up here. He’s gone, and he’s still ruining my life. But now that he’s here, I can’t make him go away.

And I can’t do this.

I open my eyes and push Mike back. “Listen, Mike . . . I just . . .” I start to tug my underwear up, but Mike grabs my wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“I shouldn’t have come out here.”

He guides my hand to his crotch. “Come on, Irish. You’re not gonna leave me like this, are you?”

I wrench my arm out of his grasp. “Sorry. I’m drunk. This was a mistake.”

He angles himself between me and the door. “Just give me a chance. I promise you won’t think it was a mistake by the time we’re done.” He moves closer, so his body is against mine, and starts on my underwear again.

I push away, feeling panic twist through my gut. “Mike, I’m serious. Stop.”

He grabs me and yanks me to him, kissing me hard.

I try to knee him, but he’s at the wrong angle, so I connect with his thigh. I push against him and his grip on me breaks as I twist.

And the next second, Mike is on the pavement.

I don’t even realize my fist has swung out and connected with his jaw until sharp pain shoots up my arm. But Mike’s split lower lip tells me I definitely did it.

“You bitch,” he whines. “You broke my tooth.”

I hear this last just before the slam of the door, because I’m already gone.

I’VE TEXTED ALESSANDRO at least a hundred times in the last four days, with no response. After the first few, when he didn’t answer my texts, I started calling. It always goes right to voice mail. I try again as I sit on the stoop of Alessandro’s apartment building. When it goes to voice mail, my heart squeezes just a little tighter in my chest.

I know it’s not fair of me to do this. I know after what I said, I should just let him go. But every waking minute, I remember how it felt to let him in, the freedom that came with finally opening myself up to someone and letting myself be me. And every minute I’m asleep, I dream of him in my arms, the weight of his body pressing into me, the things no one else has ever been able to make me feel. I pushed him away when I realize how close he’d gotten—how much of me he saw. I pushed him away because, in that instant, I knew how thoroughly he could destroy me, and I didn’t have enough faith in him to trust he wouldn’t. But every time I look at Henri and see the goodness in him, I know it came from Alessandro. What I’ve started to realize is, some things are worth the risk.

“Alessandro, I know you’re angry, and I know it’s totally unfair of me to expect you to speak to me after what I did and the things I said, but I need to talk to you. Please, if you get this message, call me.”

I disconnect and sit here, staring at the phone, just like I’ve done for countless hours before, as if, through sheer force of will, I can make it ring.

It doesn’t, and finally, I give up waiting. I stand and look over the intercom. There are four apartments on the third floor, where Mrs. Burke got off the elevator that day. I press the button for the first one. After a minute, when no one answers, I push the second.

“Hello?” comes a sharp gravelly voice.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Burke. Is this her apartment?”

“No.”

“I’m really looking for Alessandro Moretti,” I say. “He lived on the fifth floor.”